


My Lover's Hands

by lumpy_space_princess



Series: Wayward Family [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because everybody lives, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28954176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumpy_space_princess/pseuds/lumpy_space_princess
Summary: Adam can't focus on anything but Michael's hands, and what he wants them to be doing to him.(Plotless, sweet-and-sexy smut. Enjoy.)
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Series: Wayward Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123694
Kudos: 29





	My Lover's Hands

**Author's Note:**

> "I touch your feet in the shade, your hands in the light,  
> and on the flight your peregrine eyes guide me  
> Matilde, with kisses your mouth taught me  
> my lips came to know fire."  
> \- Pablo Neruda, The Lost Poems

Three beers in, and all Adam can focus on are Michael's hands. 

They're expressive, finely boned and strong. Slender fingers, delicate wrists - although delicate implies fragility, and Michael is many things, but he has never been _fragile_. Adam knows, holds memories in shivering recesses of his mind what those hands are capable of. He has watched them crush the life out of men twice his size. Watched them rend, watched them smite demons to so much burning ash. Has seen them heal. 

Has seen them do other things, more... _personal_ things. 

_Held down on the bed by nothing but will and fingertips. A sly curving grin above him, light glinting off his eyes._

Adam's breath catches. Michael is telling a story, hands weaving through the air as he illustrates a fine point of - well, he honestly isn't sure. Adam is having a hard time following the narrative. Sam and Dean are laughing, and Castiel looks skeptical. Whether it's the beer or the general air of camaraderie, Adam feels light and fuzzy around the edges, and following the conversation is currently an effort he is not so much unable as simply _uninterested_ in making. 

He allows his hand to drop to Michael's thigh, traces lightly up and back along the seam of his jeans. Sees Michael's lips quirk, out of the corner of his eyes. Wanders his hand gradually higher, nails catching along the fabric. 

Feels Michael shift next to him, not enough for the others to notice, drinking and absorbed in the conversation as they are. He lets his legs fall apart a little wider, and Adam digs fingertips into his thigh. His breath stutters, which he covers with a cough, and Adam does his level best to keep a straight face. 

Lucifer and Gabriel return from the kitchen, additional beer and snacks in hand, and everyone scoots closer to each other to allow them room at the table. Adam takes the opportunity to curl his hand higher between Michael's legs, edge of his palm pressed firmly against his zipper. 

He feels a tendril of grace flicker at the edge of his awareness. Not enough to attract attention from the other angels in the room; Michael often reaches out to Adam this way, as he is sure do the others to their human lovers, for comfort and protection and simple reassurance. But what Adam senses now is none of those things. His grace feels hungry, ravenous, feels wanting and eager. It's _lust_ , and even that brief touch fills Adam's stomach with tight heat. 

Adam prays to Michael, not with words but with images, rapid and half-formed and almost playfully defiant. 

_Adam knelt between his legs, gazing up at him, pupils blown wide and lips swollen from friction._

_Pinned to the wall by his wrists, Michael nipping bruises onto his bare chest._

_Michael astride his hips on their bed, eyes glowing and the shimmering outline of wings refracting the room behind him._

_Adam crying out his name, body quaking around him, nails digging into his back._

It's lucky the others are absorbed in their food. Michael's eyes have gone unfocused, and Adam is smugly pleased with himself. 

Adam gives an exaggerated yawn, stretches his arms above his head. "This is fun, but I'm beat. Think I'm going to turn in. You coming, Mike?" 

Michael manages to give a smile that is, all things considered, impressively unphased. "Of course. Thank you all for the pleasant evening. Enjoy the rest of it." He rises and turns away from the table in one fluid motion - although perhaps not fast enough. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam sees Gabriel raise one eyebrow and smirk, but he says nothing. Nodding to the others, Adam allows Michael to tug him along by the hand, into the hallway. 

They make it past the first bend, and Adam finds himself pushed roughly against the wall. Michael's body presses to his in one long line. The archangel buries a hand in Adam's hair, the other grabbing his hip firmly enough to hurt, and he crashes their lips together. 

_Lips tracing along the curve of Michael's waist. Hips rolling together smoothly. Panting breath and hands buried in his wings._

"My love, please." Michael sighs into his neck, "You will be the undoing of me."

He traces along the waistband of Michael's jeans, ghosts fingertips over the small of his back, and Michael's breath catches in his throat and he grinds against Adam. 

"Can't have that," Adam whispers, and grins. "Come on." He pushes off the wall, stumbles along the hallway until at last, _at last_ they reach their room. 

Adam tugs them backwards across the threshold, pulls Michael with hands on arms and lips on lips. He fumbles to push the door shut behind them, and then Michael is turning him, inhumanly strong, achingly gentle. Pulls him flush against him, chest to Adam's back, as he leans against the door. Hands rove across him - _slender, clever, strong hands_ , Adam thinks, and bites back a moan. He grinds back, one slow roll of hips, and Michael shudders against him. 

"Mika, please," Adam breathes out. "Bed. Now." 

A blink, and Adam finds himself on his back on their bed. Michael grasps the hem of his shirt, tugs it up and over his head, throws it haphazardly toward the wall. Adam lets his eyes roam up him. 

Michael's vessel is beautiful, and he knows it. Adam has told him so, often enough. He is lean sinuous muscle and honeyed bronze skin, loose curls and broad cheekbones and laughing eyes. Adam would love him in any form, any shape, would love him if their only choice was to return to sharing a body (and _that_ thought makes far more intimate shivers play along his nerves, but it's a discussion for another time). But this... 

He skims fingertips down his abs, reverent, and Michael's eyes fall closed. 

"Want you so much, Mika. Please," he breathes into the space between them, and Michael leans forward and catches his mouth in a kiss like a man dying of thirst led to water. 

They break apart, and Adam scrabbles to pull his shirt off, throws it vaguely in the same direction as Michael had done. Michael trails lips along the line of his jaw, places a kiss over the pulse point in his throat. Rolls their hips together again. Adam can feel him, hard and heavy against him, and his heart skips a beat.

Michael reaches for him with everything he has, hands on his skin and grace curling around and within his soul, and Adam shudders and sighs.

"Michael," he gasps out, hand around the nape of his neck to knock foreheads together. "If you don't get inside me _rightfuckingnow_ I might actually die. Again."

He can taste Michael's laughter on his lips. "What was it you said earlier? 'Can't have that,' I think it was?" The rest of their clothes vanish abruptly, and Adam almost sobs with relief. 

The world blurs around him, whittled away to points of white-hot focus. Michael's lips on his neck, whispering endearments in languages known and unknown. Michael's strong, clever fingers trailing between his legs, down his bare thigh, palm ghosting over the hard length of him until he shakes with it. Michael, shaking too, taking him apart, soothing and stroking with careful precision, until Adam's body is relaxed and compliant underneath him. Until he can finally, _finally_ cant his hips upward and slowly slide them together.

A pause for breath. Michael hovers inches above him, unmoving, as they let the boundaries that separate them fall away. Adam thinks - at least he _thinks_ it's his thought, though it's hard to be sure when they're this intertwined - that this might be his personal Heaven, here in Michael's arms where the lines between human soul and archangelic grace, between the bodies that house either, fade and blend until they drift, through and within each other. 

Then Michael moves, rocking backward, then forward again in one liquid slide, and they are lost to it. 

Adam can focus only on the building crescendo of their movement. On the glide of his hands over Michael's back. Michael's grace sparks ley lines of pleasure under his skin, along his limbs, and he knows that what he feels is magnified and reflected back to his lover through the bond twining between them. Michael rakes nails down his arms, moans broken Enochian against his ear, and drops a hand between them to touch and twist around Adam. 

Michael shudders and begs. "Adam, love, please, I - oh _fuck_ \- I - "

Adam cries out, muscles tensing. Michael only swears when he's close, and the profanity in his usually measured voice lights sparks across Adam's skin. He twists his grip into Michael's hair, pulls them roughly together until he can nip teeth at Michael's earlobe. 

"Come on, angel. Come for me," Adam whispers, voice cracked and ragged, and with a sob, Michael does. 

Adam twists, arching off the bed, and follows him over the edge. For long, trembling moments he feels weightless, gripped by ecstasy that may well be called divine. Then he's falling, back to Earth and back into the arms of the man above him, sweaty and sticky and warm as a furnace against his chest. 

Michael tips them gently sideways, presses forward into a deep kiss. Gradually, they pull apart. Adam feels Michael's grace untwine from the deepest parts of his mind. They settle back into their own bodies, Adam's head on Michael's arm. 

"I love you," he murmurs, lifting his head to place a kiss over Michael's heart. 

Michael smiles at him. "And I, you. Would you like to shower, or would you prefer I simply will the problem away?"

Adam headbutts him, gently. "Ooof. You do it, please. I think I'd fall asleep standing up in the shower." Michael chuckles at him. "I would catch you," he teases, but with a wave of his hand they're clean and under the blankets. 

"Mmmm. Thanks." Adam sighs, and curls around Michael. He feels hands in his hair, Michael petting him as he settles. 

"Sleep, Adam. I will see you in the morning."

"For morning sex?" Adam asks, smirking even as he struggles to keep his eyes open. 

He falls asleep to the feeling of a kiss brushed over his forehead, and the sound of Michael's laughter. 

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody tell Sam and Dean, but Midam is lowkey my favorite ship in my little AU over here O.o


End file.
